Distorted Shadows
by Faterunner
Summary: The leader of Team Galactic has finally been caught. Or has he? Cynthia visits him in hopes of getting some answers, but it doesn't go exactly as planned. Mizuhikishipping.
1. Interrogation

**Interrogation**

"Miss Champion, you're free to enter," Officer Jenny's voice sounds from over the speakers, and before her, a door made out of solid steel starts to open.

As she catches the first glimpse of that stark, blue hair, Cynthia again finds herself wondering how they managed to capture him, the most wanted man in all of Sinnoh. He is a criminal mastermind, a genius in his own right. There's an ulterior motive behind every single move he makes. It makes her wonder if maybe this capture of his is somehow part of one of his many plans. The thought fills the champion with a sense of dread, but she forcefully pushes it away. She is not going to lose her nerve now. Not when he is only a few meters away, those calculating eyes of his already fixed upon her.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Cynthia enters the steel-clad interrogation room where the leader of Team Galactic awaits her by a bare table made out of steel like everything else in the room.

"Hello Cyrus," she greets him in a chilly voice, giving him a pointed look as she sits down in the chair opposite of him. "We meet again."

"Cynthia," he nods.

There is no greeting, no signs of recognition aside from his use of her name. For a moment she just sits there, staring him down and searching for any signs of the boy she met in her hometown all those years ago. But his face is void of emotions, his eyes hard and cold. Gone is the curious spark in his blue eyes, the defiant set to jaws. He eyes her calmly, waiting for her to speak. He is a master of patience, a skill Cynthia has never quite mastered. She has always rushed into things and dealt with whatever consequences there might be along the way. And he knows this.

"Did you get tired of running?" she asks him drily, referring to his current predicament.

His blue eyes are piercing, unrelentingly staring into her grey ones, and in the end it is Cynthia who looks away, pretending to study the tinted glass that makes for a one-way window for onlookers. But today, no one is watching from the other side of the glass. Cynthia had made it clear that she wanted to speak to him in private. She likes to think it was because she was going to be a badass interrogator, but in reality it was because she was unsure of how this was going to play out. The blue-haired man in front of her has a powerful air about him that has always intimidated her, though of course she'll never admit to this.

"Actually, I turned myself in," Cyrus says, and Cynthia looks back at him with disbelief written clearly on her face. "Besides, I am not the one running."

His words send a chill down her spine, confirming her suspicions from earlier. This is all part of one of his twisted plans for world domination. Then his last words sink in.

"Care to elaborate?" she inquires with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her as she leans back in her chair. Opposite of her, Cyrus does the same.

"You're a smart girl, Cynthia. Surely you know who I'm referring to," Cyrus begins, and she snorts at his choice of words. He might be five years her senior, but she can by no means be called a _girl_.

"I'm not running from anything," she denies, but a sinking feeling in her stomach tells her that he is about to prove her wrong.

"Is that so? Then why are you here and not at the Sinnoh League? Why are you neglecting your duties as a champion to wander around Sinnoh?"

Cynthia involuntarily clenches her fists upon hearing those words, a scowl settling on her face. How dare he?

"Don't patronize me!" she bites back at him angrily. "As if you have any idea of what that title entails."

For a second, she thinks she sees one corner of his mouth tilt upward in something nearing a smirk, but it happens so quickly that she's not sure whether she imagined it or not. It unnerves her, to think that toying with her might be one of the few things that humor him, a man who prides himself on lack of emotion. She, on the other hand, is brimming with emotion; anger, frustration and something that isn't quite hate. Forcing herself to calm down, Cynthia leans over the table, hands folded and eyes blazing as the questions she has prepared for him runs through her mind.

"I suppose you came here in hopes of unraveling my plan," he says before she has the chance to open her mouth. "If you think you can use your beauty to make me talk, then I must have overestimated your intelligence."

Cynthia sits back, aghast.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

The idea is astounding, terrifying even. She has been called beautiful by countless men, but never by the likes of Cyrus, and it serves as a painful reminder of the boy he once was.

"Beauty is a trivial concept of the human heart," Cyrus says, expression unwavering.

"You didn't answer the question."

"I see no need to state the obvious," Cynthia can only stare at him incredulously as he speaks, his face still void of emotions.

She has no idea how to respond to his oddly phrased compliment – if it can even be called a compliment – so she simply sits, her eyes never leaving his, unwilling to back down. Seeing the challenge in her eyes, he leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, completely unfazed by the handcuffs that constrict his movements.

"I will be gone by nightfall. Don't try to stop me."

* * *

><p><em>Author's note:<em> A little something that popped into my mind. I'm planning on continuing this, though it won't be long story or anything. Let me know what you think!


	2. Escape

**Escape**

"Don't try to stop me."

His words echoes in her head as she stands on a hill overlooking the prison under the starry night sky. He might as well have challenged her to a battle, she thinks, for the challenge in his voice had been unmistakably. He was daring her to stop him, and Cynthia had never been one to back down from a challenge. It is his fault that she is giving up her eight hours' worth of sleep in order to keep watch over a godforsaken prison in the middle of nowhere.

"I told you not to try and stop me."

There is nothing to alert her of his arrival. One moment she is staring off into the distance, the next he is standing behind her, so close that she can practically feel his penetrating blue eyes on her back. In front of her, the prison is dark and quiet, the guards oblivious to the fact that their most dangerous prisoner has just escaped. She doesn't whirl around to face him, as her instinct tells her to. Instead she retains her calm appearance, glancing over her shoulder at him casually to say that he doesn't scare her. However, as she spots the gun in his belt, Cynthia feels the blood freeze in her veins.

"I can't just let you saunter away," she says as her right hand slowly reaches for the belt to which her pokéballs are attached, praying that he won't notice. "Especially with an invitation like that."

But he does notice, and before her hand can close around Garchomp's pokéball, she feels the muzzle of his gun against her spine.

"Don't," he says, his voice low and dangerous in her ear.

She stands very still, fear entering her body. The situation has suddenly turned serious.

"So what is it that you want?" her question is surprisingly bold, he thinks, and only the slight tremor in her voice gives away her fear.

"I want to talk," he replies off-handedly, his careless tone unfitting for someone holding a gun.

"Talk?" she raises the eyebrow that is not hidden behind her bangs, though she knows he won't see it. "How is this talking?"

He doesn't answer her. Instead, he reaches inside her black coat from behind, fingers grazing her hip, causing her to shiver involuntarily. Then he tugs at the belt hanging loosely around her hips, the belt holding her pokéballs, and her eyes widens in fear at the prospect of having her pokémon taken from her.

"No!" Cynthia hisses.

She starts to move, but the cocking of the gun stops her. The part of her that remembers the boy Cyrus once were, says that he won't shoot her and that she should fight him. But in her mind, she knows that he has changed drastically over the years, and that now isn't the time to figure out how just much.

"No," she repeats, her voice barely a whisper. "No."

With making a sound, Cyrus manages to open the belt and wrestle it off of her still form. Cynthia closes her eyes in defeat as she feels the belt slip away, slumping backwards against the muzzle of the gun. She is angry at Cyrus for daring to take her pokémon, but even so, she is even angrier at herself for getting into this situation in the first place. Old acquaintance or not, she should not have been careless enough to let the leader of Team Galactic get this close to her.

"A trainer is only as strong as his pokémon," he lectures her. "You might be the champion, Cynthia, but without your pokémon you're just as helpless as the rest of the human race."

Hearing this, Cynthia opens her eyes and glares at him over her shoulder with stormy, gray eyes.

"You, you–" she snarls, unable to come up with a term insulting enough to express the rage she's feeling.

"Bastard? Monster?" he offers.

Gritting her teeth, Cynthia fists her hands tight until her knuckles turn white and her nails bite into the soft skin of her palms. The man behind her, the sick, twisted bastard, has taken what she treasures most. The thought of her pokémon in his hands is almost too much to bear.

"You will get them back," he says in a tone that sounds almost soft – but only almost. "Afterwards."

Cynthia feels relief flood through her system, although she doesn't show it. Despite his criminal nature, he has never lied to her – only omitted certain things – so despite the situation she takes his word for it. She _sets_ her _jaw_, determined to find some way to get the situation back under control. She is surprised when she feels the gun's muzzle leave her back, and she stumbles backward due to the sudden disappearance of the object she'd been leaning against. He steadies her with a firm grip on her elbow, which she angrily shakes off. Facing him, she considers making a run for it, but thinks better of it. She is not leaving without her pokémon.

"So what is it that you so desperately want to talk to me about?"

Cyrus says nothing for a while, simply looking at her through the darkness. Cynthia feels certain that he is only dragging things out to aggravate her. She gets a sudden urge to slap him. She has never been violent of nature, but Cynthia has never been one to ignore her impulses either. She raises her hand and aims for his face, but his hand shoots out to encircle her wrist in a vice like grip.

"It seems you don't realize the situation you're in, _Champion_," he mocks her, and she gasps as he tightens his grip to accentuate his statement. "I'm the one asking the questions."

"Odd, I don't recall you asking me anything," Cynthia mocks him back, putting on a brave face. If there's something she's always been good at – besides from battling – it is putting up a façade.

He ignores her jab, his dark eyes unwavering as they stare back at her through the darkness.

"What do you know about Dialga and Palkia?"

* * *

><p><em>Author's note:<em> Here you go, the second chapter. I wrote it the same day as the first one, but I guess I forgot about it until now. Sorry!


	3. Getaway

**Getaway**

"What do you know about Dialga and Palkia?"

Cynthia's eyes widen. His question shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, she is an expert on Sinnoh mythology and the region's legendary pokémon, and he is the leader of an evil organization that seeks to destroy and then recreate the world by controlling aforementioned legendary pokémon. She knows that. But she hadn't thought that he'd care to personally interrogate her.

"What?" she asks, playing dumb in an attempt to get him to elaborate further. She knows that he intends to use the two legendary pokémon to destroy and recreate the world, but she is clueless as to how.

"You're too smart to be playing dumb, Cynthia," Cyrus says, his voice hiding what Cynthia deems to be a compliment. "Everyone in Sinnoh knows you're studying them."

Cynthia's sets her mouth in a hard line, mentally going over what she knew about the two legendaries. She had no problem with sharing her knowledge with the man before her, as long as it didn't aid him in his quest for world destruction.

"Dialga and Palkia are ancient deities, part of the creation trio. Dialga has the ability to warp time and Palkia is capable of warping space," Cynthia says, choosing her words carefully. "They are said to have been created by Arceus simultaneously when the universe begin, and like Arceus, each of them control a dimension of their own."

She knows that's not what he want to hear. He want to hear about their weaknesses, about where to find them and how to make them submit to his will. And although she has an educated guess when it comes to their whereabouts, there is simply no way that she'd tell him.

"Now, Cynthia, I could ask any toddler in Sinnoh that question and they'd give me the same answer you've just given me," he says, eyes narrowing and his grip on her wrist unrelenting. "Surely you haven't forsaken your responsibilities as the Champion for nothing."

Cynthia clenches her left fist, the one that isn't locked in a tight grip. How dare he? What does he know about responsibilities?

"As if you'd know anything about responsibility," she snarls, trying to pull her captured wrist free without success. "Besides, I came to stop you as Sinnoh's champion. This _is_ my responsibility."

"The reason you're here isn't responsibility, _Champion_," Cyrus says, voice low as he moves in closer, his other hand moving up to her cheek before catching hold of her golden locks. "You're here because of one thing."

"Do tell me," she challenges.

Their faces are far too close for her comfort. This close, she can see the lines forming around his eyes and feel his breath on her cheeks. Her mind is screaming at her to put some distance between them, to not let him get to her like this. Yet she finds herself holding her breath, awaiting his answer.

"Curiosity."

Her breath catches in her throat, and she shrinks under his intense stare. He is right of course. She came here on her own accord, not only in hopes of getting some answers out of him, but also because she wanted to experience first-hand how the boy she once knew had turned out.

Their breaths are mixing now, his mouth only an inch away from hers. Cynthia feels her pulse quicken, stopping herself before she can wet her lips in anticipation.

No. She can't be affected by _him_. Of all the people, he would be the last one to affect her in this way.

She can see it in his eyes almost before he moves in, but still, when their lips touch, Cynthia can't help but gasp in surprise at his bold move.

His lips are rough against hers, the kiss fierce and hungry, so unlike the gentle, romantic kisses she is used to. The hand in her hair moves to the back of her head, holding her there as pulls her closer with a tug on her captured wrist.

She wants to scream, punch and kick, but her brain is too paralyzed to do any of those things.

When they part, Cynthia is panting, a rosy blush on her cheek. She doesn't know what to make of the situation.

She feels Cyrus' gaze on her, and as she dazedly looks at his face, she swears the corner of his mouth is lifted in something resembling a smirk.

"Unfortunately, it seems our time is up," he notes, and Cynthia notices a small helicopter silently land not far away from where they're standing. "But if I were you, I'd make sure to have the answer to my question next time."

With that, he slips her belt containing her pokeballs in her hands before disappearing in-between the trees, presumably heading towards the helicopter.

Cynthia is left standing there, staring after him with blinking eyes.

Cyrus, the most wanted criminal in all of Sinnoh, escaped a highly secured prison, then proceeded to hold her at gunpoint, take her pokemon hostages and try to threaten her into aiding him in his quest for world destruction. Not only that, but he kissed her as well.

And the worst of it all?

She let him.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note:<em> Here comes the third chapter! I'm not exactly sure how I want this story to end yet, but I do know that our two lovebirds will meet up again, though the circumstances have yet to be planned.

However it is very late now and I ought to be asleep, but instead I chose to finish this chapter. You guys should be thankful!

Nah, I'm just kidding. I'm writing this because I want to. Mizuhikishipping needs more love!


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